


Smoke

by allofuswithwings



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Bisexuality, College, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drug Use, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Marijuana, Pining, Pre-Slash, Touching, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 00:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3916858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofuswithwings/pseuds/allofuswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy told Karen that when he smoked marijuana it made him drool. There's a little more to the story than that, at least as far as Matt is concerned.</p><p>~*~</p><p><i>“You want some? Or am I doing this on my own after all?”</i> </p><p>
  <i>Matt let his fingers trace a path over Foggy’s, finding the end of the joint to take it from him.</i>
</p><p> <i>“You’re not on your own. It’s always Nelson and Murdock, isn’t it?”</i></p><p>
  <i>Foggy smiled and Matt noticed a small rush of blood into his cheeks. It could be purely the beginning effects of the pot, but Matt guessed it was more Foggy’s fondness for those words.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Damn straight.”</i>
</p><p>~*~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up a lot longer and fluffier than I'd originally intended. Honestly, it kind of makes me want to vomit. Also, I'm slightly obsessed with their college days. I suppose this can be read in the same canon as _Connected_ , but the two aren't directly related. No beta.

~*~

 

"Man, have I got a surprise for you," Foggy announced, as he strolled back into their room that evening.

 

He rounded the end of the bed Matt was sitting on and flopped down beside him, despite there being virtually no room to do so. Foggy's presence provoked the usual smile on Matt's lips, and he tipped his head in curiosity as his best friend foraged around in his coat pocket for a moment.

 

"You don't have the best track record for surprises, Foggy."

 

"Hey, that time with the minipig was totally _not_ my fault."

 

Matt chuckled at the memory.

 

"Maybe. But I seem to remember a few other instances."

 

Foggy waved a dismissive hand.

 

"Oh ye of little faith. Trust me, this is gonna be _good_."

 

A ziplock bag emerged from his pocket, the plastic crinkling as he shook it to unroll it. Matt could make out something small and cylindrical in the bottom, though it took a few moments for the chemical scents to distinguish themselves.

 

The subsequent realisation both amused and intrigued him.

 

"Do I even want to ask?" Matt said, feigning ignorance.

 

Foggy opened the bag and retrieved the item, holding it between his thumb and fingers.

 

"This, my friend, is a doobie."

 

"Right..."

 

Foggy's expression was exasperated.

 

"Really? Come on, dude, we're in college. You're supposed to think this kinda stuff is freaking awesome."

 

Matt shrugged, his grin wry.

 

"It's cool, I guess, if you're into it," he conceded. "I didn't know you were into it."

 

He'd never noticed weed on Foggy before, at least not the consumption of it. When Foggy had been watching one of the stoner bands play, or they'd been to a party, sure, it'd been in his clothes, on his skin. But nothing remotely suggesting he'd partaken in it. It made Matt feel a little strange to think he might've just missed it.

 

Foggy shook his head.

 

"No, I'm not. I mean, this is me being into it. Because I haven't before, and this is the time to try new things, right? And who else would I want to try new things with other than my best buddy?"

 

Matt felt his skin warm at Foggy's words, and he set his textbook aside.

 

“That’s very sweet of you, Foggy,” Matt said, a grin on his lips and a slight tease in his tone. “Not wanting to do drugs without me.”

  
“You say that facetiously, but I know you love me, really. I mean, what’s not to love?”

  
Matt chuckled again.

  
“But seriously,” Foggy went on. “I’d like it to be with you, because you’re the person I trust the most. If you’re interested.”

  
“I don’t know. I guess it’s not really something I’ve thought a lot about.”

  
“So you haven’t done it either?”

  
“Technically, I have. But I was also very drunk at the time, so I don’t remember all that much of it. Except the throwing up part later on in the night. Kinda hard to forget that.”

  
Matt had done some of the usual experimentation with illicit substances as an undergrad, but had learned very quickly he generally didn’t respond well. Altered perceptions and state of mind tended to freak him out or make him feel ill with all his additional sensory input.

  
“Bummer. I understand why you wouldn’t be interested then. That’s cool.”

 

“I didn’t say I wasn’t. Just warning you in case it doesn’t go well.”

 

“Well, if you hurl on my shoes, I’ll forgive you. It’s okay.”

 

Matt laughed, and he could see the grin on Foggy’s face too.

 

“It’s actually not a bad idea though, being around someone you trust. It should help you relax and fend off any paranoia."

 

"You're not going to join me then?" Foggy asked, patting down his pockets, clearly in search of a lighter.

 

He finally found one in the back of his jeans and stood to open the window near Matt's bed. He dragged a chair over to it and sat down, his arm resting on the sill.

 

"I don't respond to peer pressure."

 

"It's not peer pressure; I'm offering to share. But if you want pass up free pot, be my guest."

 

"I'm joking, Foggy," Matt replied with a smile. "I'll have some too, though only a little. One of us should probably be mostly sober."

 

Foggy pointed a finger at him.

 

"Right. Good thinking."

 

Matt stood up and made his way over to the window. He let Foggy guide him to the sill by his elbow as he got close, and then leaned against the frame, his knees nudging Foggy's on the chair.

 

"You think this window will be enough to keep the smell out?" Matt asked, as Foggy attempted to spark the lighter.

 

"Probably not entirely, but I don't think Student Housing will be all that worried. Hell, they're probably more worried that our room _doesn't_ reek of weed, considering it's the native smell of the rest of our block."

 

"They'd also be forgiven for thinking so, with how you look."

 

Matt grinned. Foggy scoffed in mock indignation.

 

"And how's that, Mister Blind-since-childhood? I'll have you know my fashion sense is, in fact, _amazing_."

 

He managed to get a flame going on the lighter and quickly brought it up to the end of the joint. It glowed red after a moment and Foggy lifted it to his mouth to take his first drag and keep it alight.

 

Matt could feel the wet saliva of Foggy's lips as it came into contact with the dry, crisp paper, and the vacuum that was created through the joint as Foggy breathed in. The fine, densely-packed weed burned with an acrid, familiar scent that made a strange taste appear in the back of Matt's throat, and he licked his lips almost involuntarily. Foggy's lungs fought it as they were filled with the resultant smoke, and Matt was not at all surprised when he exhaled in a series of spluttering coughs.

 

"Good?" Matt asked, biting at the smile on his lips.

 

"Yep," he croaked.

 

Foggy took a few more puffs, shallower and more careful this time. The paper got more damp each time he took a drag, and Matt found himself focusing on the way the smoked bloomed over his friend's tongue and inside his mouth. He could sense its gentle burn upon Foggy's throat and the remnants that managed to reach his lungs, much less of an irritation than his first full inhalation.

 

Matt could feel his own heart starting to thud harder in his chest, the close attention he was paying to Foggy like this stirring up feelings he knew he should leave buried. But the working of Foggy's mouth upon the end of that joint, and the slow scattering of chemicals from the weed into the air made his willpower falter.

 

Foggy exhaled another small puff of smoke before turning the joint toward Matt in offer. His other hand curled around Matt's own to guide him to the cigarette.

 

"You want some? Or am I doing this on my own after all?"

 

Matt let his fingers trace a path over Foggy's, finding the end of the joint to take it from him.

 

"You're not on your own. It's _always_ Nelson and Murdock, isn't it?"

 

Foggy smiled and Matt noticed a small rush of blood into his cheeks. It could be purely the beginning effects of the pot, but Matt guessed it was more Foggy's fondness for those words.

 

"Damn straight."

 

Matt took a drag, the bitter intensity of the weed now a direct assault on his tastebuds and the sensitive skin of his nostrils. He inhaled in one long, slow breath to save him coughing as Foggy had done, but it did have downside of focusing the effects of the joint a little more quickly for him. He leaned his head out the window to blow the smoke from their room, and flicked the ash off the end of the cigarette with one of his fingers.

 

"Well aren't _we_ the professional smoker?" Foggy commented.

 

Matt turned his face toward Foggy again.

 

"What? Ah, no, not really," he said, shaking his head. "I had a bit of a habit back when I was a teenager, but that was just regular old tobacco. None of this fancy stuff."

 

Matt cringed at the memories. He'd felt the amount of damage those cigarettes had done to his lungs at the time, each and every one of the toxic chemicals that had flooded his bloodstream, and he hadn't cared. He'd been so angry at the world then, at himself, that he didn't give a damn about anything that might kill him. In fact, he'd wanted it to.

 

He passed the joint back to Foggy, who happily puffed on it a few more times as Matt gazed out the window into the clear night sky.

 

"See man, just when I think I know all there is to know about Matt Murdock, you come out with something like that. How's a guy supposed to feel close to his best buddy?"

 

Despite Foggy meaning it in jest, Matt had to swallow down the bitter sadness his words provoked.

 

"I do have some things I keep to myself, it's true. But you know me, Foggy," he insisted. "Honestly, you're probably the only one who really does."

 

"I'm not sure whether that's really sweet, or really sad."

 

Matt threw him a wry half-smile.

 

"I think it's probably both."

 

He reached a hand out again and Foggy passed him the doobie, which was more than half burnt down now. He sucked in another lungful, swapping it to one hand so he could lift the other to Foggy’s arm that still rested on the window sill. Matt slid his hand along it, the skin warm and fuzzy with hair under his touch.

 

They passed the joint back and forth a few more times before Matt spoke again, his voice quiet.

 

"I do hope you still feel close to me though. Despite my secrets."

 

Foggy's breathing was deeper now, and Matt could tell the weed was starting to affect him. He had a slightly glazed and faraway look in his eye as he stared out the window, his chin coming down to rest on his shoulder.

 

"Of course, buddy. You're my one and only." He paused. "Best friend, I mean."

 

A chuckle rose up in Matt's throat, and he realised he was also starting to feel a little buzzed. His fingers continued their slow stroke of Foggy's forearm, enjoying the steady rush of blood below the surface.

 

"Okay. For a moment there I thought things were getting a little romantic."

 

Foggy snorted.

 

"Says the guy caressing my arm."

 

Matt gave an embarrassed laugh and withdrew his hand.

 

"Right. Sorry."

 

"That wasn't a complaint."

 

Foggy turned his head to throw him a wide, if somewhat sloppy, smile.

 

"Oh. It wasn't...?"

 

"Nope."

 

Matt reached a tentative hand back to Foggy's arm, placing it back down and letting his thumb stroke along the inside of Foggy's wrist. Foggy hummed and let his head loll against his shoulder again.

 

"So, this is alright?" Matt asked.

 

He watched Foggy's eyelids droop as his fingers trailed a path back up his forearm, feeling the shift of bones and the stretching of muscles underneath his hand.

 

"Really, really alright."

 

Matt's fingers traced long, deliberate shapes - loops and ribbons of flame upon Foggy's skin that marked him, branded him in a way that only Matt could see. For days, he'd be able to detect his touch there, and know that Foggy had allowed him to do this. He also knew how crazy it would make him. But he was quite used to self-punishment.

 

Foggy made a few sloppy, smacking noises with his lips, and Matt looked up to see him rubbing the corner of his mouth into the fabric of his shirt. Matt smiled, quirking an eyebrow.

 

"Are you... drooling?" he asked.

 

"No. Maybe. Shut up."

 

Matt chuckled.

 

"I guess I'll just go back to caressing your arm then."

 

Foggy snickered, his lashes still low.

 

"Good."

 

Matt splayed his fingers and spread his hand flat over the entire width of Foggy's arm, sliding it slowly from his wrist all the way up to his elbow and under the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. Foggy's eyebrows drew together slightly and he let out a heavy sigh. Matt repeated the action several more times, his stomach dropping at the sound it drew from Foggy's throat on the last pass.

 

"Tell me to stop, anytime," Matt said, breathless, and a little dizzy. "I won't get upset." The truth was, he needed Foggy to stop him, because he wasn't sure he was capable of it himself.

 

Foggy snorted a laugh, his eyes partially opening.

 

"Why would I do that? When it feels so... just awesome."

 

It was clear his faculties were becoming sluggish now, and Matt knew he should probably be worried about that. But he was feeling pretty relaxed himself, his fire-drenched vision becoming dulled as his perception of touch increased instead.

 

He let his thumb slide over the sensitive skin of Foggy's inner arm, from wrist to the start of his bicep. There, it swirled a circle over the swell of muscle, and Foggy's mouth opened to let out a slow breath that turned into a groan. His eyelids were almost shut, and his cheeks and lips were painted red from the coursing of his blood.

 

 _Christ_ , he was beautiful.

 

Foggy sniggered, then giggled, then broke out into full-blown laughter. Matt found himself grinning, but threw Foggy a quizzical look.

 

"What...?"

 

"I'm beautiful?" he wheezed. "What is that? You can't even see me!"

 

Matt's stomach turned. Apparently the weed was affecting him in more ways than he'd thought.

 

"Oh. Um, did I say that out loud...?"

 

Foggy was still giggling.

 

"Uh, yeah, you kinda did."

 

"Sorry. It was... I don't really know to be honest. Just, the way your skin feels and the sounds coming from you when I touched you..." He trailed off as he saw Foggy's bloodshot eyes watching him with curiosity. "And this is just getting worse the more I try to explain it. I'll stop."

 

Foggy grinned at him, turning his hand over and lifting it to squeeze the underneath of Matt's forearm.

 

"And you said _I_ was getting romantic, Murdock."

 

Matt laughed, but as soon as he started, he found it hard to stop, the giggle rising up in his throat. Foggy joined him, and the two of them spent a breathless minute trying to get themselves under control.

 

"Shit, I think I need to sit down," Matt sighed.

 

As he started to turn toward the bed, Foggy grabbed hold of his belt loop and yanked him back. Matt stumbled, more from the surprise of Foggy's hands on his hips than anything else, and found himself pulled down onto Foggy's lap.

 

"What are you _doing_?" Matt laughed.

 

"You said you needed to sit."

 

"Not exactly what I had in mind."

 

Foggy's arms curled around his waist, and he leaned forward to rest his head against the side of Matt's chest. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh.

 

"But you're comfortable," he murmured.

 

Matt chuckled again, and Foggy's lips curled into a grin.

 

"Well, I guess that's important."

 

"Very."

 

Matt took a last drag of the joint, now burnt down to a nub, turning his head to blow the smoke outside. He stubbed the cigarette out on the sill and then flicked it out the window, before turning back to Foggy. He felt his heart stutter as he looked down at the content expression on his friend's face, pressed against the maroon fabric of his tee.

 

Matt looped an arm around Foggy's neck, his hand coming to rest on the back of his head, fingers tangling in the long, scraggly locks. He took off his glasses and set them on the window sill, letting out a sigh.

 

"I have a confession to make," Matt said.

 

"Go ahead, my Catholic friend."

 

His words were somewhat muffled as he spoke into Matt's shirt.

 

"I know I said I was only going to smoke a little with you," he started, a giggle rising in his throat. "But I think I'm wasted right now."

 

He didn't even make it through the whole sentence before he was shaking with laughter. He felt and heard Foggy start giggling too, and he had to reach a hand to the window sill to hold them both steady. Foggy's face was still buried in his shirt, and he could feel his warm breaths seeping through onto his skin as he gasped for air.

 

After a moment, their laughter died down and Foggy lifted his head, looking up at Matt in the dim light.

 

"I have a confession to make too."

 

The seriousness of Foggy's tone made Matt's heart thud in his ears.

 

"Alright."

 

Foggy watched him for a few long seconds.

 

"I totally drooled all over your shirt."

 

He dissolved into giggles, as did Matt, and it took another minute or so for them to compose themselves again.

 

"You're a mess," Matt chastised, shaking his head, grinning.

 

"Not my fault. It's that damn Mary Jane."

 

"It's okay. I still love you."

 

"Because I'm beautiful, right?" Foggy teased.

 

"God, I'm never gonna live that down, am I?"

 

"Nope."

 

Matt allowed his fingers to card through Foggy's hair, his grin turning wry. He could feel the two-day build-up of oil starting in the locks from Foggy not washing it, as well as the good a comb through would do for the knots developing. Still, it was far from an unpleasant sensation, particularly when he snaked his fingers further in to rub small circles over Foggy’s scalp.

 

Foggy hummed at the gesture, and his eyelids drooped again. Matt could feel sense his friend’s breathing and pulse slow, as did his own when Foggy’s hand slid up his back to begin rubbing between his shoulder-blades. He turned to rest his chin on the top of Foggy’s head, the muscles in his back relaxing and his own eyelids slipping shut.

 

Matt sighed as Foggy’s thumb pressed into a sore spot just next to his spine.

 

“Screw this law thing; you should become a masseur.”

 

Foggy snorted.

 

“Why not both? People who need defence lawyers are usually stressed.”

 

Matt chuckled, his fingers now straying to the base of Foggy’s skull, where they stroked back and forth.

 

“True.” Matt arched his back a little and furrowed his brow as Foggy continued to work the knot there. He swallowed down the groan that threatened to escape him. “Though, I’m now tempted to keep these skills of yours to myself.”

 

“So selfish.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

He continued to run his hand through Foggy’s hair for another minute or so, the pleasant warmth their intimacy stoked in his belly making him feel drowsy. Well, no doubt that, and the weed they’d just smoked.

 

“We should go to bed,” Matt murmured.

 

Foggy’s fingers ceased their massage, and his hand slid slowly, almost reluctantly, down Matt’s back.

 

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

 

Matt pulled himself off Foggy’s lap and reached for the window, shutting it and latching it closed. He then turned back to his bed and crawled atop it, feeling too tired and sluggish to bother getting under the blankets. A moment later he felt a dip in the bed and the heat of Foggy’s body next to his on the mattress.

 

Matt huffed out a laugh as Foggy sidled up beside him, draping an arm over his waist so they were spooning.

 

“You have your own bed, you know,” Matt informed him.

 

“I know. But, comfortable, remember?”

 

Matt grinned. He wasn’t about to protest this, not when it felt so very good to have Foggy’s bigger, softer frame enveloping his own.

 

“Right.”

 

Foggy shifted again so they were pressed even closer, and Matt leaned back into it, his arm coming down to cover Foggy’s. Almost as an afterthought, he curled their hands together and held them against his stomach. He wondered for a moment if Foggy would recoil; if this was Matt pushing things a little too far.

 

But then he felt Foggy lift his head to exhale a warmth breath against the back of his neck, and then hum in contentment.

 

“Hmmm, definitely comfortable.”

 

His words were slurred now, and Matt knew he was on the very edges of sleep. He closed his own eyes and let out a long breath.

 

“Goodnight, Foggy.”

 

“Night.”

 

A blissful smile curled onto Matt’s lips and he let himself drift off into a hazy sleep.

 

~*~


End file.
